


There's a Hunger Under My Skin

by slamjam



Series: Swallow [1]
Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Biting, Cuddling & Snuggling, Jon's really sensitive because of The Eye Reasons, M/M, Neck Kissing, Scottish Cottage Fic, Sharing a Bed, literal cold feet, sex positive asexual, sex via proxy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-02
Updated: 2019-12-02
Packaged: 2021-03-03 13:14:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,160
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21639277
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/slamjam/pseuds/slamjam
Summary: from this post on kinkmeme that i've been ruminating on for literal weeks, https://rusty-kink.dreamwidth.org/1380.html?thread=232804#cmt232804Disgustingly domestic archivists discover entity-sex: more at 11.ORThe throat kink fic
Relationships: Martin Blackwood/Jonathan Sims
Series: Swallow [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1697533
Comments: 25
Kudos: 424





	There's a Hunger Under My Skin

**Author's Note:**

> I genuinely cannot tell what level of relationship these bastards are at here, and I am aware that it kind of jumps around, so I'm just going to say preemptively it's a "haha, unless" situation where both of them are literally too dumb to figure out that they are in love and should kiss. 
> 
> I say this because Jonny said that Jon is fucking stupid in the Q+A and I love that for him.

After the Lonely it was hard to get either of them to leave each other’s side. Jon thought they probably hadn’t stopped touching for at least two hours, or until his hand started to cramp so bad they had to switch positions so he could rub feeling back into his palm. At the safehouse it was almost easier to stay that way. The place was so tiny they were always close, if not touching then moving in each other’s orbit, legs tangling congenially under the kitchen table.

Martin was warm, he’d expected that (when he had started thinking about what it would feel like to hold him, he couldn’t say) but his feet were cold when he dug them into his knees at night. Worse, they never seemed to warm up, staying just as unearthly cold as they were the moment they first touched him for hours at a time. He thought to ask about it, but remembered Martin’s lack of shoes in the Lonely, and thought better of it. Some things the entities took so quietly you didn’t even notice until months later, if ever. And, he thought, he could put up with a little annoyance to wake up next to someone who made him feel things he couldn’t define.

And maybe he wouldn’t have had to define them if Martin didn’t also move around in his sleep. Georgie had been a light sleeper, and it wasn’t an issue before, so he knew it wasn’t that. It was the fact that when Martin would shift positions and hike his leg higher; the chill would travel up Jon’s leg and he would jolt awake feeling like someone was rubbing ice cubes on his calf. It became a point of pride in himself, to not say anything and just grit his teeth through it but the third time he woke up with a nightmare of Nikola Orsinov’s cold plastic hands sliding up his legs he knew he had to do something.

Luckily (or unluckily as it was) Martin woke with Jon, and blearily turned towards him, his hand curling in Jon’s pyjama top, murmuring “wha is i?”

“I-“ Jon hesitated and then winced “Martin your feet are a bit cold”

“Mmmm but you’re nice and warm” He said with a dopey smile, wrapping his legs around Jon’s lower half, his feet resting against the sleep-warm of his upper thigh and it was enough to drive him mad.

He rolled away, looking for his glasses.  
“Was that too- was that weird, that was weird I’m sorry” Martin stammered behind him and Jon shook his head.

“No it- It’s fine” he said running his hand through his hair and looking down at Martin who was seemingly at about 75% capacity from how he was violently blinking up at him, trying to focus.

“I’ve just noticed because it woke me up a few nights and it was a bit much.”

“A few nights,” Martin said, propping himself up on his elbow, incredulous. “Jon you could have just asked for me to wear socks to bed and this could have been fine.”

“Yes I suppose I could have.” 

“You didn’t think of it did you?”

“No I did not.”

Martin gave him a lopsided smile and shuffled out of bed, hissing when his feet touched the cold wooden floor.

“Would it have killed Daisy to maybe put a little carpet under her bed. I’m not talking the whole room just an area rug or something?” He puttered around in the dark looking for his suitcase as Jon watched, flopped over Martin’s pillow. They’d both been using the same shampoo but somehow there was still a scent to him that permeated everything he owned. It was nice, that. Made him real.

“It’s a bothy, Martin. I think this is as sophisticated as they get.” Jon grumbled into the pillow, watching heavy lidded as Martin’s backside bobbled above the suitcase. The strip of skin that he saw from his shirt riding up was almost neon white in the dark room, and he had the strange impulse to bury his whole face in the pillow and breathe. “I don’t really think it’s her style anyways, I mean can you imagine her going hunting for home goods?”

“What, just cus she’s a butch woman means she can’t have a nice looking house?” Martin said.

“No, her and Basira’s was quite nice and I’m sure she could go all uh, HGTV. if she wanted. She just seems like a minimalist at best.”

“How in God’s name do you not know Rihanna but know about HGTV?”

He was about to respond something vague about hotel TV in America when Martin gave a little cry of surprise, and popped back up with a pair of socks in his hand. “Found you, you little bastards!”

Jon smiled in spite of himself, which made Martin blush and sit down on the edge of the bed to pull his socks on. Jon let his head flop down into the pillow, just for a second.

“Jon” Martin said, and he felt a hand on his back.

“What?”

“You’re on my pillow.” He lifted his head to see Martin smiling down at him, not the usual slightly nervous look he got in the archives but just plain fondness, and he felt a thumb rub back and forth gently on his shoulder. There was no reason for it, but something in him just broke open with love and he rolled over, clutching the pillow to his chest so the other man couldn’t see.

“Jon!” Martin exclaimed, reaching after him and trying to pull him back across the bed by his shirt. 

“My pillow now.” He heard himself say like an _actual child_ before Martin sighed and flopped on top of him.

“Okay. My pillow now.” Martin said as Jon squawked. He flailed, smacking at Martin, who only laughed and rolled Jon over, only to get a pillow to the face.

“Mmfndn” He said quite articulately, before the pillow dropped away and Jon was smiling under him, wider than Martin had ever seen before, his glasses askew and his hair spilling out on the white sheet underneath.

He was always beautiful, but now Martin could see a little bit of what he might have been like before the Institute, before all the life and kindness and easiness got sucked out of their lives and he loved that part of him too. He wanted to reach down and push his bangs out of his eyes and kiss him, deep and slow. Wanted Jon’s hands to tangle in his hair and let this moment go on and on forever; but instead he dug his fingers into the narrow of Jon’s hips to hear him squeak.

Jon was soft in surprising places, his stomach, the underside of his knees, and Jon fought valiantly against the onslaught of tickles, but he was no match for a man who was once called the best babysitter in the entirety of Devon. Well, at least the best in his neighborhood. A pillow slammed down into his head from above and he looked up to see Jon attempting to keep a straight face by biting his whole top lip, crossing his arms across his skinny chest. “I think you might want to concede defeat.” He said, his voice a few notches higher than normal.

“Oh so that’s how you want to play is it?” Martin said and Jon smiled, wide and feral and God he loved this man. Martin tried to move up his body to get at his sides again but Jon clamped his legs shut in one swift movement, trapping Martins arms to his sides. Well, if there was nothing else to do… Martin let himself fall forward, feeling Jon’s little huff of breath as he landed squarely on his chest and rubbed his stubble against Jon’s neck.

He was expecting another peal of laughter, maybe for Jon to swat at him a bit before Martin conceded defeat. What he was not expecting was for Jon to moan, low and loud and clutch at Martin’s head.

“Wait, what?” He said before he could really think, and felt Jon pull his hands away as fast as he could.

“I’m- I” Jon stuttered, which was even more concerning because he never stuttered that was Martin’s thing.

“I’m going to-“ Martin cut himself off, wriggling to get free of Jon’s knees which dropped the moment he realized what Martin was doing and he planted them on either side of Jon’s chest so he could look up and see the man.

He was bright red, even in the dark Martin could see it. Almost feel the heat coming off of him.

“I’ve never reacted like that before to- you have to believe me.” Jon stammered.

“No, I do I definitely-“ Martin responded before realizing he didn’t really know how to end that statement and closing his mouth.

“It’s an archivist thing.” Jon said, like that would explain anything. Martin just stared at him, shook his head, “Jon-”

“I’ve noticed” Jon interrupted “certain bodily effects as my…powers have grown more intense. Just like other avatars develop their own _adaptations_ to their own powers my body has decided to adapt the part I use to interface with my entity to be more, uh, perceptive.”

“Which means?”

“My neck is rather uh, sensitive now.”

“Oh. Oh! Oh god I’m so sorry Jon.” Martin said, clambering off of him, “If I knew that would cause you pain I wouldn’t have-“

“No, no it’s. Not pain.” Jon said, with a strained laugh, and sucked his teeth.

“Oh.” Martin said. He was still kneeling between Jon’s legs, suddenly hyperconscious of every place they were touching.

“Um, do- you don’t want to do that again, then.” He wasn’t sure where this lay on the “okay for Jon” spectrum, but from the way the other man’s brow knit, it looked like he wasn’t sure either.

“Do you want to do it again?” He repeated and Jon’s eyes focused on him hard and prying and it almost hurt; would have if he weren’t him and didn’t trust Jon to put him back together after he examined every seperate part of him. 

“Let me think about it.”

Jon was staring at him, his eyes dark and inscrutable and watching and Martin leaned back against his abandoned pillow and made himself comfortable. Watched Jon watching him, let himself be seen.

Jon was silent for a while, and Martin felt himself dropping off. The bothy was cold and the blankets warm, he could hear the wind rushing outside and feel the soft breathing of someone beside him, it was all serving to make him sleepier and sleepier, but he still caught it when Jon whispered a hoarse “Yes.”

He lifted his head up again, a bit muzzy and saw Jon laying next to him, arms crossed over the blanket.

“Yes…”

“To you touching my neck.” He wouldn’t meet Martin’s eyes.

“I’m not going to if you’re going to hate it.”

“I’m not going to hate it, you saw the way I reacted.” He bit back, shifting a bit and looking away. 

“I don’t mean like that I mean hate it as in hate yourself afterwards. I won’t be something you can break yourself with Jon.” Maybe that last bit came out a little harsher than he meant it because Martin saw Jon wince a bit, but when he looked back at Martin he looked sure.

“Martin, please touch me.” he said, and God how long had he wanted to hear those words from Jon Simms’ mouth. It was all he could do to not bum rush him, scooting closer and reaching out a tentative hand to touch his shoulder. He moved his hand slowly, slowly, up Jon’s shoulder to the juncture of his neck and felt him go completely still.

“Is this good?” He whispered and Jon nodded so hard he thought his head might come flying off. He let his knuckles rub a soft line across Jon’s throat and watched as his whole body arched up into the touch and his mouth fell open.

“You look just like a cat” Martin murmured, tracing up behind his ears. Jon made a little grunting noise and pressed himself into Martin’s hand. “Georgie always used to say that.” He slurred. “Th’ Admiral was my true father and I was just- ah – a big cat wearing a human suit.”

Martin giggled almost hysterical for a second at the fact that this was his fucking life, and rubbed his thumb across Jon’s throat to hear him sigh blissfully. “Are you purring then?” He tried to ask sort of sexily.

Jon cracked an eye and glared down at him as effectively as one could whilst getting the equivalent of the best massage ever. “I’m not actually a cat Martin, I’m just…” He trailed off, waving his hand.

“Just a strange little man who enjoys, er… what does this do for you?” Martin’s hand stalled and Jon actually whined, and scrabbled for Martin’s arm, gripping his wrist tight. 

“Don’t stop.” he said, voice hard and commanding like how he used to sound when he was telling Martin off and it took everything in him to not moan. 

“Yeah” Martin breathed “okay.” He scratched his fingernails lightly over his adams apple and Jon hummed in a kind of conflicted way, so he dragged his hand back to cradle his head. 

“What does it feel like?” Martin repeated, his thumb swiping slowly over Jon’s throat and he felt him shiver and relax.

“It feels like I’m, like you’re touching me.” He whispered, his hands adjusting their grip on Martin’s arm.

“Oh?” Martin squeaked at night dog whistle pitch. He coughed “Uh like…”

“Yes like touching me, uh on my…dick.”

“Your what?” Martin said genuinely not hearing him and Jon glared at him.

“My dick, Martin. This is-a bit. A bit closer to um, sex than I originally thought it would be- oh there.” Jon turned his head, blushing furiously as he pressed up into Martin’s palm. 

Martin made a noise a little bit like a balloon letting out air. 

“Is this- are- is this too far? For you???” he squeaked, his hand frozen as Jon pushed up into it insistently. 

“I mean typically I don’t make a habit of rubbing off on my-ugh-but -oh- this seems to be some sort of-” Jon cut himself off again to moan low and frustrated as he pressed harder against Martin. “Oh God that’s good Martin please.” 

“On your????” Martin echoed, a little hysterical. 

“Martin, please, please.” Jon chanted pressing up into the hand around his neck and groaning as he felt Martin’s hand press down lightly against him. 

“Jon. Before we keep doing this I need to know if this is okay. I don’t want to like coerce you into doing something you don’t want to do because of eye power bullshit.” 

Jon opened his eyes, suddenly deadly serious under him. 

“I want this, Martin. With you preferably, although I honestly could…” his hand waved somewhere around his waist and then flopped back down to the bed "We could just go to bed and just forget I ever said anything.” His voice was tinged with what Martin was surprised to recognize as anxiety. 

“No God, no, Jon,” Martin cupped his cheek, “you have no idea how long I-” He screwed up his face “never mind, I would love to do this with you. I was just concerned that maybe you didn’t really have full control, or I don’t know.” He was blushing too, suddenly embarrassed. 

“How long you what?” Jon said and Martin felt a layer of what felt like liquid honey cover him. He answered immediately. 

“How long I’ve wanted to fuck you, see you come. God I’ve wanted you since the moment I saw you but I didn’t think that you-.” Martin had to make a conscious effort to close his mouth against Jon’s compulsion and bit his lips shut. 

“Oh god Martin, I didn’t know I’m so sorry-” 

“No.” He stopped Jon's panic before it could take off. "Can I ask you something?

Jon knitted his brows and nodded slow.

“Do you want to do this, still?” 

“Yes but the whole compulsion thing is just-that’s wrong and I can’t.” 

"Okay yeah, I get that." There was a brief silence as Martin jiggled his foot, thinking. "If you...if we cover your mouth, not in like a choking way not-like that. But um if I could kiss you?" "Yes" Jon blurted, and actually clapped a hand over his mouth. Martin laughed. "Okay! Kissing is an absolute yes for, for always, okay." Martin knew that he had a dopey ass smile, and it probably looked worse from Jon's vantage point but couldn't bring himself to care. "And if that doesn't work then yeah I understand taking a break and rethinking this but I really want it to work if you want to uh, explore this with me and, why are you smiling at me like that?" 

"You had a crush on me?" Jon looked like at least thirty things were fitting into place and Martin wanted to scream but just let out a little howl of frustration and, in lieu of doing something stupid like confessing to being capital L In Love with Jon for literal years, hauled him in for a kiss. Jon’s hands automatically wound into his hair, tugging and both of them moaned. Jon pulled back with a ragged gasp “God, Martin I think it’s in my mouth too, fuck.”

“Does that mean I should stop?” 

“No, I want more.” 

Jon hauled him back down and Martin flopped his top half over Jon, blanketing him, as the archivist tugged at him trying to bring him ever closer. He wiggled his hand, trying to fit it between their bodies to reach his throat; managing to stroke the column of it with his fingers so Jon groaned deep in his chest and opened his mouth wider for Martin’s tongue. 

He was an absolutely awful kisser, there was no way around it but the enthusiasm was extremely sexy, on top of it being Martin’s number one fantasy for oh, years. This was enough to make the drag of his cock against his pants nigh painful and he reached down to adjust himself. Jon decided to use this as an opening to wiggle his hips so that his thigh was at the perfect height for him to rub against.

“Is this?” He started and Jon nodded, out of breath, watching Martin’s eyes flutter shut as he rocked down against him with a reedy moan. “I don’t- I don’t know if I can touch myself but if you keep going I think I might be able to… you know.” Jon murmured and Martin nodded. 

“I’ll do anything, just tell me.”

“Are you-“ Jon started and Martin cut him off.

“Jon I swear to God please please let me do whatever will get you off.”  
The archivist’s eyes went wide for a moment, like he was cataloguing every single part of Martin, and then he pulled him down and kissed him once, sweetly.

“Okay” he said, and Martin felt it rumble in his chest. “Give me your hand.”

Martin brought his hand up and he grabbed it, tapping the first two fingers against his open mouth, so Martin would press them past his lips. Jon hummed happily and sucked him as deep as he could and Martin moaned openly, sloppily kissing at his jawline as he ground up into the shorter man.  
Jon kept gagging when he tried to take him too deep and he didn’t seem to understand the concept of keeping his teeth away from skin but it was the sexiest thing Martin had ever seen and he was truly going to come in like two minutes flat like a fucking teenager. 

“Fuck, Jon.” Martin breathed, kissing up and behind his ear, “You want another?” 

He made a little incoherent noise of joy and surged up to take the third finger into his mouth, drooling like a madman but if he cared he gave absolutely no indication. It was the most relaxed he’d ever seen Jon, which was really rather depressing. But also gave him Jon’s face without the perpetual wrinkle between his brows, his long eyelashes fluttering, the high ridge of his nose. He had freckles on the tops of his cheeks, that stretched when he hollowed his cheeks out to suck, run his tongue up the palm side of his fingers. He looked desperate, moving his head up to take Martin deeper, and suddenly Martin felt Jon press himself up against his leg and moan, rough and deep and he had to come within the next minute or he was going to go absolutely insane.

“Fuck - God I’m so close.” Martin felt his toes curl in his socks, and momentarily mused on the fact that his first real time with Jon Simms, man of his heart, was in fucking reindeer patterned fluffy socks before Jon pulled away from his hand and he had to pay attention. 

“I need- my neck, please.” His eyes were fever bright, panting hot against Martin’s wet hand. He was so close, it wouldn’t take that much for him to come but not without Jon. Not yet.

“Good” Martin said, pushing his fingers back into Jon’s mouth and nosed his head to the side to reach the side of his neck. Jon’s entire body clenched when Martin bit him, his fingers clenching and unclenching where they had a vice grip on Martin’s hair and he’d been riding the edge of orgasm for so long it almost felt like it would go on forever. His arm was starting to cramp and Jon was making these weird little choked noises that were slightly worrying. He was about to concede defeat and try a new tactic when he lifted his head and saw Jon’s eyes open, deep and black and watching. 

“Please” Martin said, not knowing what he was asking for, and Jon rolled his hips up, pressing their cocks together so Martin came with a long whine, feeling Jon watch him, know him as it rocked through him.  
He tried to keep his hand moving, but it had stalled, and when he started again, shoving his fingers deep in Jon’s mouth and biting down hard, he came with a surprised yelp. Jon was still shuddering and breathing hard around his fingers as he came down, which were still deep in his mouth. Martin pulled them gently out of Jon’s mouth and wiped them on the sheets so he could wrap his arm around him properly. Better that than come.

He pressed a little kiss into Jon’s cheek, “Fuck, Jon. You did so good.”

“Huhnnhh” Jon said, and waved his hand vaguely before dropping it back to the bed.

Martin laughed and the shorter man made a disgruntled noise so he responded “not-I’m not laughing at you! You’re just all boneless and cute and stuff.”  
“I’m glad.” Jon said huskily and it made Martin’s dick twitch hopefully but yeah no, not for like a half hour. 

“Mmmm.” Martin laid his head on Jon’s chest, making sure to avoid his neck and held him close. A hand found its way into his hair.

“Are you okay?” He asked, and Jon kissed his head. “Yeah, I’m. I’m actually really good.” He laughed kind of incredulously. 

“I can um, clean us up if you want?” Martin said, wiggling to try and look at his face and Jon sighed.

“God you’re so nice, why are you so fucking nice Martin.” Jon said sounding so much like he had a few years ago that for a second Martin found himself thinking “I ought to go make a cuppa”. 

Instead he said. “What do you mean I’m so nice, this is normal? People being civil and normal to you? That’s normal.”

“I don’t think either of us are used to normal.” He said but Martin found himself surprisingly angry.

“It doesn’t matter if you’re used to it Jon you’re worth good things. You deserve them. And if you’ll let me I’ll give them to you I- Fuck. He dropped his head, forehead resting against Jon’s sternum. “I meant what I said in the Lonely.”

“I love you.” Jon said, and Martin’s head whipped up so fast it hurt. He looked small, but honest. “And I want to have this conversation, but I just… brain offline, for like the next hour. 

Martin wanted to laugh, but instead he kissed him, softly, tenderly on the lips.

“Yeah, yeah okay. We can put this one on pause.” Jon smiled and they pressed their foreheads together. Jon kissed the paper thin skin of his eyelid.

Right as he was about to drift off, Jon murmured, “Do you think I could come just from blowing you?” 

“Jesus Christ.”

**Author's Note:**

> Title is from "Crane Your Neck" by Lady Lamb and the Bird which is a little different of a horny on main vibe than this fic but I think it fits pretty well.


End file.
